


Something I Can Control

by DontTouchMySeaweedBrain



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: 5x11, Hurt Scott, ProScott, Stiles is a dick, malia is the actual best, scott mccall just really needs a hug ok?, someone actually comforting scott mccall: an abstract idea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 16:14:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5973760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontTouchMySeaweedBrain/pseuds/DontTouchMySeaweedBrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malia finds Scott in the aftermath</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something I Can Control

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings for self harm and suicidal thoughts, and kind of description of cleaning wounds, and blood I guess? Scott's pretty broken up.

The second she walks into the building she is hit with a freight train of Scott, his blood, his fear, his pain, his posture, his voice. And suddenly it doesn’t even matter that Stiles is glaring and there’s tension in his voice.

“What happened?” She turns to Scott.

“I’m fine, we’re looking for—”

“A chimera, you told me, but what happened to you?” And she looks closer and he’s bleeding through his shirt. “Scott!”

She lifts it up, and oh god, there’s a haphazardly placed bandage there, soaked through too. She looks up and he can’t even meet her eyes.

“I’m fine, Malia,” gently, he pushes her hands down, pulling his jacket over his wound.

“No,” she looks to Stiles, and all he’s doing is looking away. “Are you seeing this?”

“Look, it’s fine. But we have to find this chimera. You said you knew what he looked like,” Scott takes her hands, which she suspects is just a measure to keep her from touching.

“Who cares? We have to get you home. We have to fix this,” she presses on.

“If we don’t find him, he’s going to die and so is Stiles’ dad,” Scott pleads.

“If we don’t get you patched up, you’re going to die,” she glares at Stiles; no matter what his deal is with her, why isn’t he doing anything?

“He’ll heal. Are you coming or not?” Stiles says carelessly, pushing forward and ignoring Scott’s flinch at the words. Her mouth gapes open. She meets Scott’s eyes, and all she sees is pain. He squeezes her hand.

“Let’s go,” and she doesn’t have a choice.

* * *

 

Later, he falls to his knees, shaking all over. He’s barely keeping it together, and something itches in her, urging her to _protect_. She pulls and inhaler out of her pocket, stolen from the jeep or the clinic or Scott’s backpack, she can’t remember. But she doesn’t think she’ll ever forget the grateful look on Scott’s face. Like by giving him medication she’s done something extraordinary and kind.

* * *

And then they’re alone and Scott collapses into the nearest chair, gripping at the arms like his life depends on it. He looks up at her as if he’s forgotten she’s there.

“What’s wrong?” He gasps, looking for all the world like he’d fight anything bothering her right now. He tries to right himself, but falls back, looking confused.

“What happened to you, Scott?” She takes his hand again, kneeling down to look him in the eyes.

And they’re stormy when he says: “Last night, Liam… Liam tried to kill me.” She grips tighter, and her claws dig into the palm of her hand.

“He what? Why?” She tries to sound calm, but she doesn’t know, can’t fathom what she is supposed to do. Liam is pack, but Scott is… Scott is something else.

“Because of Hayden. And because of Theo.” Her stomach drops. Theo.

“But you didn’t do anything wrong. The bite would have killed her, right?”

He sniffles. “I thought so. Maybe I was wrong. She died, Malia.”

“You did the best you could.”

“What if that’s not enough? Not even what, Malia, it wasn’t enough. Stiles’ dad, he was in the hospital, and I wasn’t there!” He looks up at her, and the emptiness in his eyes makes her shudder.

“Stiles can suck it. I’m not even sure if you shouldn’t be in a hospital. Scott, you’ve bled through all these bandages and your shirt, and I don’t think it’s stopped. It’s not your fault if you were too busy being attacked to stop the sheriff from being hurt doing his job!” She wipes off the blood on her palms; the wounds have already healed, and takes his other hand.

“I let Theo get to me, none of us would have been hurt if I hadn’t trusted him.” He looks down, and it’s all she can do not to wrap herself around him.

“Scott, we all trusted Theo. I trusted him, Stiles trusted him, Lydia trusted him, Kira trusted him, Liam trusted him. There was nothing you could do. Let’s get this fixed up, now. Come on.” She leads him to his bathroom like he’s a child, and slowly, slowly unravels the bandages. The smell gets stronger and it’s not just blood, it’s death, it’s pain and _wrong_ , and when she sees the wound, it’s all she can do not to throw up. God, how is Scott breathing. It goes so deep, and in the worst place. She can almost see his heart struggling to beat.

“Liam did this? I’ll kill him. I swear, I will. This is awful. I don’t even—”

“It wasn’t Liam,” he slurs, and she sits him down on the sink, eyeing the bloody washcloth.

“I thought you said—” She pulls gauze and bandages and pills out of the cupboards.

“Liam first. Then Theo came to finish me off.” His arms hang limply, like he doesn’t know what to do.

“You showed him.” She dabs at the wound with cotton balls soaked in rubbing alcohol. They all come away red.  

“No.” He looks at his hands, and she sees his own claws digging into his palms.

“Hey, stop that!” She says, holding to his hands and _gently, gently,_ pulling them out. She looks at his eyes again. “What do you mean, no?”

He takes a deep breath, “He won, Lia. He killed me.” And he stutters. His heart misses beats, and the shape it’s in, she can’t blame it.

“He killed you?” Her voice sounds hollow, disbelieving and he flinches from it.

“Yeah. My mom brought me back,” his hands curl up, shoulders shifting, not quite sagging, just curling up protectively.

“Are you okay?” She asks, and her voice sounds calm, but she doesn’t know how it can be. Her alpha… he had died. She tips his chin up to look into his eyes.

She doesn’t even have to listen to his heartbeat to know he’s lying, “Of course. I’ll heal.”

She smiles sadly, and sets the cotton balls aside, takes his hand carefully, delicately, leading him to his feet. There’s so much damage that she doesn’t know how to fix.

They make their way to the floor together, and slowly, slowly, he comes closer, still unsure.

“It was so dark,” he finally admits, still clinging to her hand. She squeezes. “Like… I don’t know. Last time I died, I knew I had a tie. I had a way back. But I was sure that there was _something_.” And then he’s even closer, shirtless back pressing too hot against her. “It… it was still better than this.” She gasps, and he ducks his head. “Sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey, Scott come back.” She gently guides him back to her, but he’s so lost, so far away.

It doesn’t take much, there’s so much pain simmering just underneath his skin, it’s all she can feel. Black pours into her veins, and she feels him relax for just a second.

“No! You can’t!” He jerks away, but his hands are shaking.

“Scott, it shouldn’t be this bad!”

“I can take it, I can—  I have to—”

“Scott, let me. Please.” She holds out her hand, and she sees what it costs him, but she knows that he needs it.

There’s so much of it, and it hurts so much. How can one person hold all of this?

And then it’s gone, and Scott collapses against her, sobbing into her shoulder.

Her arms go around him automatically, hands rubbing over his ribs, through his hair, “Shh. It’s okay. I’ve got you, it’s okay.”

“It’s not,” he chokes out. “It’s not.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I appreciate any comments!  
> Love, Abby


End file.
